


Christmas Eve

by Abradystrix



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Cursed Child - Thorne & Rowling
Genre: Christmas, Fluff, M/M, Nostalgia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-24
Updated: 2016-12-24
Packaged: 2018-09-11 18:27:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9001621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Abradystrix/pseuds/Abradystrix
Summary: Albus and Scorpius discuss the best (and worst) of Christmases past.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written for @babiegay as part of the [Scorbus Secret Santa](http://scorbus-secret-santa.tumblr.com) challenge on Tumblr, 2016.
> 
> Thanks to @torestoreamends and @autmnhearthfire for being excellent betas and lovely friends.

In a large room, in an austere manor somewhere in Wiltshire, where the snow was falling gently outside, and the window was warm with candlelight, two boys sat in a tangle of blankets. They sat close beside one another, with a box of Bertie Bott's and a pile of Pepper Imps at their feet, and all the time in the world. One of these boys was Albus Potter, and he was happy. He watched with laughter as Scorpius Malfoy delved into the quickly disappearing pile of Imps, his pale cheeks now pink with laughter and cheer.

Albus loved coming to the Manor: he knew that his parents never would, and he knew that some evil had transpired there many years ago but he only associated this place with Scorpius and long days of summer spent in the grounds. His dad spoke about it as a dark place, yet Albus saw only light: the Malfoys had worked hard to irrigate the darkness from each room and chamber, the walls painted in pristine whites and creams, the furniture, though antique, polished light and shining. Though he had met Astoria Malfoy only a handful of times, he felt that you could sense her presence in the way each room was thoughtfully and carefully softened somehow.

Scorpius's room in particular was wonderful, thought Albus, admiring the opulence. The walls were adorned in colourful images: posters advertising sweets, images from Muggle life and newspapers; programmes from old Quidditch matches. There were photographs too - his parents, young and in love; scenes from his childhood and photos from school. Albus featured prominently, he was pleased to notice, with their arms flung around each other, grinning from ear to ear. The bed was four poster, tucked in a corner by a roaring fire, all deep green curtains and mahogany wood. It smelled of fresh mint and inked parchment, a smell he had come to associate strongly with his best friend. There was a smaller, portable bed set up beside it but the neatly pressed covers remained untouched and pristine. Albus secretly hoped they would stay that way.

The door to Scorpius’ room had barely clicked shut behind Draco when Albus grabbed Scorpius into a fierce hug. Somehow in the hour that had passed since his arrival, they hadn't touched. Whether it was Draco's watchful eye or their own nerves, Albus wasn't sure. All he knew was that he wanted to feel the solid warmth of Scorpius in his arms, to bury his head in that delicate shoulder and breathe him in. As his arms loosened their grip, Scorpius had caught one of his hands and squeezed it, resting his forehead on Albus's with his eyes closed and breath hitching slightly. They had stayed like this for a long moment, before Scorpius reddened and announced that he had rather a lot of sweets to get through, if Albus would join him?

And so he had, without hesitation. They were sitting now, backs to the wall, feet entangled in the blankets, sides pressed together and a sense that all was right with the world. Albus thought that he would never tire of this closeness and companionship. He dropped his head onto Scorpius' shoulder and listened to him talk, though he audibly groaned at Scorpius's festive enthusiasm as he started pontificating about the relative merits of wizarding tinsel. Scorpius laughed and retorted:

'Alright Albus 'Scrooge' Potter, what was your best Christmas?'

Albus moved his head to look at Scorpius's curious face and raised eyebrows. He wrinkled his nose as he tried to remember. 

'Well...I was about seven, I think, and everyone else was sick - some kind of vomiting bug. I was feeling fine - further proof that I'm the odd one out I suppose. I had hoped it was evidence of my adoption, but one look in the mirror and I couldn’t really believe that. So it was just me, Grandad and Grandma at the Burrow. Victoire and her parents popped in too, for a bit. It was quiet - in a nice way. I remember we ate a lot of turkey, and Grandad and I built a Muggle train set together... I still have it somewhere. He couldn't stop staring at the little controller figure, and spinning the wheels on the carriages. Uncle Bill charmed it so that the carriages really lit up. I got to stay over in Mum's old room, and she came to get me in the morning. She took me for a hot chocolate before we went home. It was just... peaceful. Brilliant and peaceful. Then when I got home I got to have my pick on the telly because…

‘Hang on, you had a television?’ said Scorpius, sitting up straight.

‘Yeah, or rather, we used to.’

‘That’s so… A proper Muggle television? With the moving pictures and the sound and so on?’ His mouth was hanging open in a vision of curiosity that Albus had come to associate primarily with very boring homework and History of Magic lessons.

‘Yes, Scorpius that’s the general idea. Merlin, you sound like my grandfather!’ Albus replied, exasperated. ‘Funny really, because that’s who we gave it to in the end. Dad was determined we should have one, something about his terrible Dursley childhood I think, but in the end we bickered so much about it that it got confiscated and then sent to Grandad’s shed, where Muggle contraptions go to die… I thought Mum hated it but I think she misses it most of all, she got quite into some awful programme that Aunt Hermione introduced her to. They still make us read the Muggle news sometimes though.’

Scorpius looked amazed at this new piece of Potter household trivia.

‘Anyway, when we got back Dad and James and Lily were still in their beds. I suppose I must have missed them a bit but it was nice to just be Albus for a bit and not part of a package. That was probably it for me.’

He smiled briefly at the memory and watched Scorpius’ happy face, delighted that Albus was joining in. 

‘How about you, Malfoy the Merry?'

'Oh, I was four and we'd finally given up having to go to my grandparents on Christmas Day. The year before they'd had another spectacular row - Dad had really lost the plot with them entirely. Grandfather had started criticising my mum again, and I think he must have gone too far as Grandmother stormed out of the room and Dad kicked his chair back and really went for it. Mum and I just looked at each other, and she ushered me towards the fireplace with a determined look on her face. We Floo-ed straight home and when we tumbled out of the fireplace... well, I know I should probably have been upset but I simply couldn't stop laughing. It was so horribly tense, but I just couldn't hold it in – you see, I was sure I’d heard Mum mutter ‘glorified bigoted windbag’ at him as we’d left. Lucius ‘Windbag’ Malfoy! Dad arrived shortly after to find us rolling around in hysterics. He took one look at us, gave us a huge hug and burst out laughing too. From then on we just stayed at home... That first year it was just such a relief. Dad stayed in pyjamas all morning and helped me unwrap my presents. Mum watched from the sofa and took some photos, and we all went for a walk before lunch. I remember it was the last Christmas it really snowed before now…’ 

Scorpius absently popped a bean in his mouth, rapidly spitting it out into a handkerchief with an expression of great distaste. 

‘Oh Merlin! HADDOCK!’

Albus couldn’t help it. He laughed. Scorpius’s eyes flashed in his direction.

‘FISH, Albus! I HATE FISH!’

‘Yes I do seem to remember that…’ replied Albus, still giggling. ‘Tell me, how is it that Malfoy the Unanxious, defeater of the darkest timeline and survivor of substantial mortal peril, can be defeated by a mere bean?’

Scorpius narrowed his eyes.

‘It’s. Fish.’ He spat back, dramatically.

Albus threw a Pepper Imp at him. Scorpius took it grudgingly, still shuddering. The steam from his ears seemed to cleanse both his palate and his mind and his face lit up once again as another memory came to him.

‘Oh! That was also the year of Rheon, the snow troll I built. He lasted until the New Year. I think Dad might have been charming him to keep him standing. He and mum were so happy that Christmas - they kept kissing and touching, I squirmed and fussed about them being embarrassing... but really, I liked that they were so relaxed. It felt so very nice to be just the three of us, away from the world. But that's before that isolation became permanent and things went... wrong.'

The thoughtful silence hung in the air. Albus found himself getting involved in the spirit of the season now. There was something about Scorpius's enthusiasm that was contagious and he didn't want his friend to hurt in contemplating the past.

'Ok,' said Albus, 'how about your worst present ever? I've got one right away: Homework planner. Aunt Hermione. First Christmas at Hogwarts. Uncle Ron actually mouthed sorry at me from across the room. He seemed to understand.'

Scorpius looked startled. 'Oh but a homework planner would be a great present! I bet Hermione would pick the best ones as well… was it a Scrivenshaft’s…’ he stopped short, catching the mutinous look on Albus’ face. 

‘Er, nevermind! Alright, for me it was a ghastly shrunken house elf head. Some rotten cousin sent it. Dad Vanished it and then gave our house elf a festive bonus and extra holiday just in case he'd seen it... What about your best present?'

'When I was ten we got a proper wooden sledge from Uncle Charlie. James turned his nose up at it because it wasn't a broom, so I got it all to myself. It was brilliant. Didn't even need magic, it felt like flying anyway! What was yours? Let me guess, an ornamental taxidermied house elf family?'

'Oh Merlin no! No, it was our cat. She wasn't really a present, but she turned up at Christmas all skinny and sad looking, and Mum and I begged Dad to keep her. I don't think he minded at all. He still feeds her scraps, and once I caught him talking to her about alchemy.'

They sat in contemplative silence, chewing plaintively on some innocuous lemon sherbet beans.

'I remember my worst Christmas,' Albus said, suddenly. 'When Dad had to do his 'Seventeen Years Since' Festive Banquet. We all had to go to the Ministry: we had to wear dress robes and stand around like idiots while everyone fawned over him. We didn't even have time to eat a proper dinner beforehand, and let me assure you, 'banquet' was a bloody misleading term. Even James sulked, and he usually loves those kind of events. Mum was dealing with a supremely cranky Lily at the time, and she wasn't too happy either... It overran so we hid in the cloakroom and fell asleep under some travelling cloaks. I don't think Mum and Dad minded much, it shut us up at least.'

Scorpius opened and closed his mouth hesitantly, before saying quietly: 'When my Mum wasn't there. For the first time.'

Albus let his hand rest on Scorpius's knee and pulled him closer for one of those hugs that was becoming all the more frequent. That was when he let his hands move up to touch Scorpius's face and press his face close to his, trying to will the distance between them away. He closed his eyes and gently, ever so gently, led Scorpius down to lie beside him on the bed. He pulled him into his arms and felt a fierce burst in his chest that tasted of pride, and love and a protectiveness he hadn't felt himself capable of before... Before Scorpius, really. He wanted to so badly to take that hurt away, to absorb that pain and have his friend happy and whole again.

They lay like this for a while, listening to each other breathing and the sound of snow falling with a gentle thud against the windowpane.

'I can't believe it,' said Albus, eventually, looking at Scorpius with a very serious expression.

Scorpius looked back with very confused eyes.

'Believe what?'

'Well,' sighed Albus, 'I'd been shrinking that gnome head all year for you and now I'm starting to suspect you might not even like it.'

To his delight, Scorpius burst into peals of laughter and rolled onto his back. Albus found he was laughing too.

Their conversation drifted onto different subjects: school, Quidditch, the relative merits of Scorpius's favourite sweets and the horror of Ginny Potter's ban on sugar. It was well past midnight when they finally settled down. As Albus had wished, the second bed remained unclaimed. The two boys fell asleep facing one another, each too stubborn to admit defeat and succumb to sleep. As they drifted off, they found their hands wound together on top of the blanket.

'Happy Christmas, Albus,' murmured Scorpius, rolling closer to him.

'Happy Christmas, Scorpius,' he replied, shifting to make room.


End file.
